Lyrics:
the very heart of it, New York, New York
I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep
And find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap
These little town
cash
Am I a real artist
Or just a heap of trash
Are s...kickers too cool
Is religion just a crutch
DO all Europeans wear suits
Why do I drink too much
of a heap
But the shadows in your eyes, made me realize
That you're in disguise
Chorus
Throw your broken bones in a heap
All the blood and guts are exposed
Your spirit has been begging to leave
Now his grave is just a heap of stones.
"The waves crest sharp as an unsheathed blade,
As spume-topped breakers shorewards loom,
And boulder
To take to my heels
A fee
No fear no doubt
All of a heap
dark brother
And the sleepers in the sleet
The heaps in the street
Nestled under trestles for to get a little heat
And if the trestles watch over
tomato
Splotched with moldy, purple spots
Mr. Grinch!
Your soul is an apalling dump-heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful
Assortment
a bite
The guards will be obliged to pick the fattest from the heap
They drag the body through the filth by a cruelly mutated arm
Up into the kitchen
tomato
Splotched with moldy, purple spots
Mr. Grinch!
Your soul is an apalling dump-heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful
Assortment
Britain untidy
When you find a place that's neat
Just make it look like a rubbish heap
Smash the windows tip up the bins
Show 'em the shit that
tell mi say, yuh caan even spen 5 minutes
She tell mi say, she fed up caw yuh wutliss
An she tell mi say a hol heap a time yuh flop
An yuh find excuse
tomato
Splotched with moldy, purple spots
Mr. Grinch!
Your soul is an apalling dump-heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful
Assortment
By: Imogen Heap/Michael Gerber
I paint the two of us on a canvas in chains
I hung it on the wall so the story sustains and I layer
the colors
but it gets me where I'm goin'
I got a thirty nine Ford, this only just won't die,
But I got a thirty nine Ford, this old heap just won't die,
the very heart of it
New York, New York
I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep
And find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap
These little town
to none
Open wounds in arrogant bliss
Skillfully remove
Innards in a vulgar heap
And finally the womb
Touch the flesh, desecrate the skin
Wading
You'll reap what you sow
The sky is a new shade of war
The colour of meat rent raw
This conflict's innocents
In heaps of twitching limbs
Mouths
the stories of misery
All the junkies with needles in their arms
Dead in a heap
tomato
Splotched with moldy, purple spots
Mr. Grinch!
Your soul is an apalling dump-heap
Overflowing with the most disgraceful
Assortment
larger from day to day
Death wins without a battle
The earth which feeds us is ruined
The ocean becomes a dusty heap
The air we breathe is filthy
mutilated and deformed
Fridge with chopped heads,
vermin flies and crawls all over
Carnage temple, necropolis
Bodies fused as heaps of putrid waste
the very heart of it
New York, New York
I wanna wake up in a city that doesn't sleep
And find I'm king of the hill, top of the heap
These little town
fallen world)
Which wonder has woke me up
A soldier of few
We're torn into secrets
But into the heap I knew is all my frustration
Inside of you too
_(cropped).jpg/183px-Web_Summit_2018_-_Centre_Stage_-_Day_2,_November_7_DSC_5287_(44853624505)_(cropped).jpg "Imogen Heap")
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